


Merry Christmas, John!

by sparklinglights



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklinglights/pseuds/sparklinglights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Would you have sex with me? Only six words, but together, from Sherlock 's tongue, they formed a shocking, life-changing sentence, which John didn't know the right answer to." A one-shot Christmas fic. Nothing explicit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Christmas, John!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The show and characters belong to BBC, Moffat and Co., I just borrowed them for fun.  
> AN: Unbetaed, so be warned. Merry Christmas, everyone! :)

John Watson found himself not being able to tear his gaze away from those bright uniquely blue coloured eyes that were waiting for an answer. An answer to a question he hadn't expected to hear, let alone to reply.

As the matter of fact, the issue had already crossed his mind - rather as wishful thinking, but he had never dared to dwell on it. He had never thought that Sherlock would ever even only think about the matter at hand. So John was more than astonished when the detective popped out the question. Would you have sex with me? Only six words, but together, from Sherlock 's tongue, they formed a shocking, life-changing sentence, which John didn't know the right answer to.

They were just friends, however, the doctor had found his feelings toward his flatmate involuntarily changing recently. Yet, he couldn't pinpoint what to do with the nagging, overwhelming, definitely romantically and sexually driven emotions. He had kept telling himself that it was due to the lack of dates and his hormones were playing with him, but deep in his guts a little voice said that Sherlock had grown upon him and, for some mysterious reason, he, John Watson, ex-army doctor was falling for the eccentric, emotionless young man. He couldn't control the newly awakening feelings. So when Sherlock came up with the question from out of blue, John was more than surprised and utterly embarrassed, yet secretly pleased and excited. He wasn't ready to talk about his feelings yet though, he had to come to terms with them in first place. Anyway, what he needed now was Sherlock to explain the origin of the sudden question.

The detective looked into his eyes, intently, not saying a word. John was about to demand an explanation, but when their gazes met, the words died on his tongue. What he saw in the blue pools was nothing he expected. Instead of the clinical, sterile, experiment-focused look of the genius, a pair of scared, yet hopeful eyes stared back at him, warmth and innocence showing in them.

Whatever John intended to say was gone, his instincts and heart took the lead when he muttered eventually. "You're the detective, do your job. Tell me."

Sherlock's mouth quirk into a smirk of mischief, and, putting on the detective attitude, he smugly said.

"You are my friend, so you definitely like me. You're also amazed by me according to the frequent use of words 'brilliant', 'fantastic' and 'amazing'." He was circling him while speaking. "As for the physical attraction, you like me wearing that purple shirt, I can tell from the stolen glances that you give me when you think I can't see you. Occasionally, you watch me while I'm lying on the couch with eyes closed, and with your ordinary brain - no offence - I doubt you're reading me there. You haven't had a date for weeks, so unless you wanked in the shower, you haven't had release for a while."

John swallowed hard and shifted as Sherlock moved closer, shortening their distance. The detective's body so dangerously close and the scent of his cologne lingering around him, John's breath became heavier. He must be enjoying this game, John thought, licking his lips instinctively, the bloody bastard.

Sherlock placed a hand on his flatmate's chest, and John shivered slightly at the intimate touch. He wished Sherlock didn't notice it, but who was he fooling, it was obvious he did.

"Your heart beats faster than normal, which indicates excitement. No case to work on, no thrilling news, so the reason is something else. What could cause such a reaction right now? Obvious." Sherlock grinned. "If you refused the idea of sleeping with me, you'd react completely different. Have seen that before. You haven't snapped with the usual 'I'm not gay' exclamation, which suggests that you're not quite against the idea." His hand started rubbing slow circles on the doctor's chest, and John had to bite his lip to stifle a slight moan.

"Why..?" John muttered, his eyes still on his flatmate. "Why are you doing this...? You're not..."

"Sex doesn't interest me, that's true," Sherlock cut in. "But it's not just sex, it's sex with you. I wanted to give you something special this Christmas, a gift you like, and as your life is lacking of sexual encounters these days, I thought this could be the perfect present. The fact that you like me helps," he shrugged.

"Oh," it was all John could say, being touched and disappointed at the same time. Sherlock's reasoning was heart-warming, but on the other hand, the fact that the offer was some kind of compensation and not the real thing was disheartening.

Confusion appeared in the detective's eyes. "Not good?"

"Sherlock.." John took a deep breath and placed his hand on the top of his friend's. "I truly appreciate what you do, but... I don't want you as a substitute..."

The young man's face became grim, his eyes mirrored utter confusion.

"I don't need special gifts from you to show me that you care. You're my friend, I know you do. But this... What you offer is beyond friendship."

"So I messed it up," Sherlock sighed.

John saw the disappointment and sadness in his friend's eyes, the feeling of uselessness was mirrored in the blue pools. Of course, Sherlock couldn't see that why his offer earned indignation, his brilliant mind wasn't working like any other people's.

"No, it's not that, I truly appreciate your intention, it's just..."

"Not good, alright, got it,"' he sighed resignedly. "However I thought I found the perfect gift for you, now I have to find something else.."

"You're not that good as you think you are, you know," John smirked confidently.

Sherlock's look mirrored confusion. "What are you aiming at?" He furrowed his brows.

"The great detective misses the details at times." Seeing that his friend still doesn't get his drift, John continued. "You see, but you don't observe ..." Sherlock searched the doctor's eyes for a clue. "You deduce that I might not be against the idea of sleeping with you, but you take my words of refusal for granted. Isn't there a contradiction?"

Sherlock was gaping at him, completely clueless.

John couldn't help but laughing. "You're so childishly naive at times."

There, he thought. It was the time to confide the detective into the secret of his heart.  
Taking all the courage, he spoke.

"When I said I didn't want you to do that I meant I didn't want you as an object, as some service. I don't want you to be a one-night stand." His eyes locking Sherlock's, John took a deep breath. "What you deduced is true, I'm not against the idea of being with you. Not the slightest," he whispered. "Because I have feelings for you."

He finally said it aloud.

"It has taken me some time to realize and come to terms with that though," he went on, bolder with every word. "I haven't intent to let you know though as you told me once that you were married to your work. Now, however, I'd curse myself for missing the chance to have you if only for a night, I'd rather let it slip away than acting afterwards as if nothing happened and lead the life we used to. Furthermore, your offer concerns a mere intercourse without emotions involved, which I can't accept. I don't want your body only; if we ever had sex, that should happen because you also have feelings for me."

John was staring at his friend, waiting for a reaction.

Sherlock was processing his flatmate's words in silence, his face showing no emotions whatsoever.

"Don't you want to say something?" John prompted him, the awkward silence making him uncomfortable.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Say 'John, I appreciate your interest, but I'm married to my work', or 'Thank you, John, but you're not my type'. Anything?"

"I don't want to lie to you."

John's breath was caught in his throat for a moment. Sherlock practically admitted that he had some feelings for him, however he might not have been aware of it.

"Oh," he uttered, barely audible. "What happened to your marriage with your work?"

"You."

John gaped at his friend dumbfounded, his mouth parting slightly.

Sherlock's steady gaze pierced the doctor's eyes.

"Ever since you entered my life, I find myself experiencing things I have never done before. I have never had a friend, let alone a best friend, now here you are. People didn't care for me, now here are you, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Lestrade.. I have never been anxious about anyone's safety, now I worry about you all the time. I have never indulged myself in ordinary things, now I let you take over my life."

John's face softened and a warm light flickered in his eyes.

"Now you ask me if I have feelings for you, and I can't find the right answer, because there are so many ways you affect my life." Taking a deep breath, he continued. "I enjoy your company, I need you being around me to function properly. You complete me and make me feel alive. You're my guiding light, my compass, my home. I don't think I could live without you anymore."

A warm smile appeared on John's face. "See, you have feelings for me. You're not that emotionless as you think you are." He sneaked his hand into Sherlock's, intertwining their fingers.

Gazing at their joint fingers, Sherlock uttered with a shy smile. "I like your touch. It's so comforting."

Taking a step toward him, John's other hand cupped Sherlock's face, his eyes never leaving the detective's blue pools. Standing on his tiptoes, John pulled his friend close, his lips touching Sherlock's, slowly and gently.

"What does this feel like?" He murmured when pulling back.

"Not enough data," Sherlock muttered, and leaned in for a longer and deeper kiss. Sneaking his arms around the doctor, he pressed their bodies together, feeling the comforting warmth against his chest. He could feel John's heart beating fast, every thud like a note of a melody.

"I don't think I have to find another gift to you after all," Sherlock smirked when pulling back, flushed and eyes bright.

"Neither do I," John grinned back, and pulled Sherlock into another, passionate kiss.


End file.
